


(or the fall begins there, and never ends)

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Family, Community: kink_bingo, Consent Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanart, Jotunheim, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The list of things Loki wants is short: respect, the throne, his father's concubine. In no particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt/fanart](http://marty-mc.tumblr.com/post/61140789936/) by ayonoi/marty-mc on Tumblr.

It is said that the best of the Jotunn warriors is neither Jotunn nor truly a warrior. 

The king's most favored concubine, it is said. One of the few remaining Aesir, plucked as a child by King Laufey from a procession of slaves. 

He was once a prince, it is said. The last of the once venerable house of Odin. Fair-haired, blue-eyed, immeasurably strong. In possession of a hammer that can fell even the biggest of giants - a gift from his king, an unheard of favor for even the most pampered of slaves.

He was meant to be a god, it is said.

"Irony," Loki mutters, as Thor crosses his arms and bars him from entry to the throne room. 

"Hmm?" 

"Not a term you would truly understand, I imagine. Please get out of my way."

Thor seems unimpressed. His frown deepens, and he says, "Your father has given strict instructions. He is not to be disturbed unless we come under attack or one of his children lies dying. You seem in remarkably good health to me, and so unless you are here to tell me that the Dark Elves have invaded you are not to pass."

Loki widens his eyes. "But Thrym says you are needed - something about one of the prisoners escaping from the dungeons."

It will take a while before Thor figures it out, the dungeons are far away and it is true that there is a rumor that one of the prisoners has escaped, started helpfully by Loki. Knowing Thor, he will do a thorough search to ensure that no-one has in fact managed to slip past the care of the guards. 

Laufey acknowledges Loki's audacity with a brief nod when he presents himself, although his mood changes swiftly when Loki explains exactly why he insisted on an audience. "You are a child," he says. "And you presume to tell me how to run my kingdom? _My_ kingdom."

"But Father -"

"Enough - I have had enough of your nonsense, and I -" His head lifts, and he continues, "Ah, Thor. You have returned. Do ensure my youngest is back safely in his chambers, will you."

A hand on his elbow, soft but unyielding. "Come along, young princeling."

Loki tries unsuccessfully to wrench himself away, snaps, "Unhand me, slave. How dare you presume to lay a finger on me."

" _Loki._ " Loki stops struggling, and shrinks back against Thor. "You will speak to him with respect."

"Why? He is just your whore, and I am your son -"

"When you have done more than suckle at your mother's teat and cause chaos in our home with childhood pranks, then you can speak to him whichever way you want. Until then, you dishonor him and you dishonor me, do you understand?"

Loki remains silent, blinks away tears. 

"Do you understand, child?"

"If I were Byleistr, you would -" The fingers on his elbow tighten. "I understand."

"Good." Laufey leans back in his throne, all the menace gone from his frame. He glances away, and it is as if he has forgotten Loki is there, in an instant.

"Come along," Thor says, and his voice is surprisingly gentle. "I will return you to your chambers."

Loki allows himself to be led, wipes furiously at his face, but when he reaches the archway that leads to his bedchambers he straightens his spine, says, "I do not care what Father says. I am his son, and you are nothing more than a -" he cannot finish, settles into tightening his jaw instead.

Thor swipes a thumb across Loki's cheek, and Loki doesn't think to push it away. "You are brave, at least in effort."

"It does me no good, does it? You will not understand."

"Go to bed," Thor says. "Your father will have forgotten all of this by tomorrow."

*

The problem, then, is that Laufey will forget. Loki's ideas, Loki's presence, possibly even his existence. 

"So I take it Father was not that receptive to your grand designs for the future of our kingdom," Helblindi says.

"Do you not have some poor animal to slay or something?"

Helblindi scowls. "At least I am of some worth. You cannot even summon ice. It's as if you're not even Jotunn - you might as well be Aesir, for all the good you can do. You think Father will ever make you king?"

"Shut up, or I will wait until you are asleep and smother you with the fur of an unwashed elk."

Helblindi rolls her eyes, before she pinches him in the soft flesh of his waist. Loki squeals, and mutters a spell under his breath. Helblindi starts to scream, batting her hands at invisible worms all across her body. "Loki I will kill you, you miserable whelp," she yells.

"You'll have to catch me first," Loki calls out, glancing back as he starts to run. He barrels into a hard object, loses his balance and ends up sprawled on the ground.

"Brother," Byleistr says. "Are you not getting a little old to be running down hallways?"

Loki ignores his extended hand, sits up. "It is your sister that is without manners. I was merely trying to escape her irrational wrath."

"Irrational? If it involves you I doubt there's any irrationality in her wrath." 

Helblindi catches up with Loki, and so Loki has to put up with both his siblings glaring down at him.

"You should watch your back, By," Helblindi says. "Our runt of a baby brother has designs on the throne."

"He is aware that being third in succession means his chances are rather slim, isn't he?"

"Only if the two of you are still alive." Loki hops to his feet, scowls at them both as they laugh. He contemplates kicking both of them in the shin and then running off, but he has had quite enough exertion for today, so he merely sticks his chin up and says, "Never let it be said that I didn't warn you."

"Duly noted," Byleistr says. "I will watch my back for the tiniest of assassins, creeping up behind me."

Loki doesn't deign to respond, swishes away instead with whatever's left of his dignity.

They will all see, someday.

*

Loki's mornings are usually occupied with tutors attempting to teach him subjects that he already knows better than them. Loki has tried numerous times to get rid of the lessons, but each tutor he drives to enough madness to quit even a vaulted position as a prince's educator is merely replaced with another, the next day. 

This one, Loki can tell, will not last beyond the week. She throws her hands up half-way through a lesson and declares, "Let us take a break," escapes from the room before Loki can even answer.

Loki goes to the balcony the moment she is gone. He jumps on top of the stone next to the wall and starts to climb. One of the few advantages of being a runt is that one can go places giants normally do not have access to. He reaches midway to the top of the wall, settles down in his favorite place, a nook in the stone where he will be able to sit and watch the royal regiment train. Most of the time Helblindi also trains with them, and on occasion Byleistr will turn up, to beat his chest and show off. 

Today, neither of them are there. Instead there's Thor, a small, unwavering figure surrounded by the best warriors Jotunheim has to offer. Loki has never seen Thor in battle, only heard tales that he's rolled his eyes at and dismissed as exaggeration on the part of bored Jotuns intrigued by Thor's exoticness. Loki doesn't understand it.

He does, soon enough, as Thor fells giants left and right with nothing but his hammer, seemingly without any effort whatsoever. Loki finds himself unable to stop watching, his fist pressed to his mouth as Thor slides to his knees to avoid a giant fist, and somehow manages to drop the fist's owner by slamming the flat of his hammer against her knee.

Thor is declared victor, and Laufey himself emerges, to give him a genial nod that, for Laufey, means a lot.

Loki feels faintly ill. It doesn't matter, he decides, as he starts the slow climb back down into his chambers. Thor will never be more than Laufey's whore.

It does not matter. 

Back in his chambers, his tutor screeches at him for disappearing, and Loki says, "I will tell father you are inadequate and unsuited to tutor me, shall I?"

She shuts up after that, but from her decisive march out the archway when the lesson is finally over, Loki is certain she will not be back.


	2. ii.

"But don't you want revenge, though." Loki leans against the archway and watches Thor as he changes. He has rarely ventured into this part of the castle - it's always been forbidden, although Loki doesn't understand why, he has found little of interest every time he has snuck or deceived his way past the guards.

Thor's rooms are made especially for him, to accommodate his relatively smaller frame. Loki still has to make do with things meant for those far bigger than he is.

It isn't _fair._

"Revenge for what," Thor says, as he winds leather straps around his wrist and forearm. 

He doesn't seem to care that he's otherwise naked, and Loki snaps, "Would you make yourself presentable - I can hardly be expected to stand here exposed to your disgusting pink flesh." 

"Or you could just stop staring." 

Loki refuses to avert his gaze, glares pointedly at Thor's hideous cock, nestled between the lightest of gold fur. He is almost hairless elsewhere, like a Jotun, only uglier. 

Loki doesn't understand how father could possibly - he shudders, and finally glances away. "As I was saying -" 

"Oh, you were not done yet." 

"As I was _saying_ , are you not mad? I would be livid. I would want revenge." 

"What is the point," Thor says, and when Loki lifts his gaze finds that he's mercifully put on his loincloth, snug around his hips. "The Jotuns won, we lost. It was an honorable defeat." 

"And you spreading your legs for my father, that is honorable as well?" 

A muscle in Thor's jaw twitches. "You know nothing," he says, and his voice is hard, blank.

"I know the Prince of Asgard shouldn't be anyone's concubine." Loki straightens himself up, turns to walk away. "Too bad you don't feel the same way. Shame, that."

*

"Do you think Father takes him like a dog," Loki asks Helblindi. 

Helblindi makes a face, and returns to her book. "You are disgusting, brother." 

Loki scowls. "Don't tell me you don't think about it." 

"I can honestly say I do not spend a lot of time contemplating how Father beds his slaves, no."

Helblindi has always been the most unimaginative of them. Loki flounces off, but he can't let go of the image of Laufey and Thor, together.

It's so pervasive that he find himself unable to sleep at night. He throws off the furs in disgust after a few hours of fitful tossing and turning, pads his way into the hallway.

There are ducts running along the entire castle, meant to trap heat and air. Far too small for even Jotunn children to crawl through, except that Loki is, as he is so often reminded, a runt. Loki's spent hundreds of hours exploring the secret nooks and crannies of his home, and he knows the exact route to take to Laufey's bedchambers.

The duct ends behind a dark, heavy curtain, but there is a slit where light gets through, and when Loki peers out there is a vantage view of Laufey's bed.

There's no one there, and Loki waits and waits. It takes a while, and he almost falls asleep, almost crawls back to his room before he sees movement, and Laufey comes into view.

Loki rears back instinctively, before he realizes that Laufey cannot see him.

There's conversation, low and murmured, and Loki hears Thor before he sees him. He's naked, smiling as he speaks.

Loki expects several things. He expects rutting, for Laufey to claim Thor as his own, to push him down onto the bed and take him. He doesn't expect gentleness, or laughter, or even comradery. Thor climbs into Laufey's lap, and they mate almost as equals. 

It's disgusting. It's - there's an almost painful ache between his legs and he has to stifle a gasp as he presses a hand against his loincloth. Not that it matters, he can hear Thor's soft murmurs turning into louder moans as he calls out Laufey's name. He scrambles backwards, crawls back to his chambers and hides under the blankets until morning, trying to wash the images from his mind. 

*

Loki cannot look at either of them the same way after that. But Laufey barely tolerates him as it is, and Loki rarely sees Thor unless he seeks him out. 

It's a surprise then, that Loki finds him in the library, browsing through the stacks. 

"You were taught how to read?" Loki asks. "Does Father provide his concubines with an education? I did not know it was a necessary requirement for sucking cock."

"Your father enjoys having poetry read to him in between the cocksucking," Thor says. A smile crosses his face.

Loki scowls. "If you are looking for the books on Jotunheim's glorious conquest of Asgard, they are in the stack over on the other side." Thor's smile fades away. He turns to leave, and Loki calls out to him, "You can stay if you like. Why are you here, anyway?"

Thor turns back, and shrugs, and his shoulders are powerful, even just rolling them. Loki has to glance away, hide the darkness on his cheeks. "It is quiet here."

"Jotunheim is hardly short of silent spaces if you require some contemplative meditation."

"But you are rarely found elsewhere, or so I'm told."

"It's the only place I know my wretched siblings won't find me," Loki says. "As neither of them have mastered reading comprehension beyond words accompanied by helpful illustrations."

"I had a brother," Thor says. "He was older than I was by some years. Kind, and beloved by all."

"Baldr. Fell during the first wave of the war; struck down by Laufey himself," Loki says, and at Thor's look continues, "I was forced to learn our history, in endless detail. I was not jesting about the tedium."

Thor turns his gaze, allows it to wander to the stacks of books, reaching high into the ceiling. Built for giants, as all things. Loki has had to adapt - some volumes were big enough for him to sit on, when he was younger. "So if history bores you, what then?"

"Seidr, obviously." He brightens some, lowers his voice. Some of the volumes have not been read since generations past, the magic almost forgotten. "I will study them all, and be the most powerful sorcerer this realm has seen."

"But sorcery is a gift, given by the gods." 

Loki can't explain that seidr speaks to him like nothing does, that even as he can barely comprehend the spells and incantations, it is as if he holds all the keys to every locked room in existence, and only youth and lack of experience keeps him from opening each and every one. "You may sit next to me if you are quiet, Aesir. I will show you." Loki pats the floor next to him. 

After a moment, Thor drops gracefully down. It is the closest Loki has been to him alone. His eyes are almost Jotunn blue, framed by the pure gold of his lashes. Loki pictures them cloudy with desire, with the same type of heat that emanates from his body. 

He reaches out, curls a lock of gold hair around his finger. "It is softer than it looks."

"You were to show me your reading."

"Yes." Loki breaks off, lowers his head. "I can see why Father values you so," he says without glancing up, and cannot miss the soft exhalation of breath from the body next to him. 

*

There is a feast upcoming, to celebrate the start of the harsh winter season. It is when the Jotuns throw off the malaise of the warmer months and start to plan for the upcoming harvest: Loki loves the blackest of winter berries, the fish that only surface from the deep to be caught when the water cools.

He finagles a seat next to Thor, who as usual is seated on Laufey's left. As if he is a wife, and not a concubine. Thor has put on a stole of heavy fur, a present from Laufey. Loki caresses it, says, "Such a shame that you are not built for our land."

Across the table, Helblindi shoots Loki a dirty look. She is half in love with Thor, or at least his grand exploits as the perfect warrior. Loki ignores her, and she attempts to make conversation with Byleistr, who shoots her a distracted smile before turning his attention back to Laufey. 

The heir apparent is just so _dull._

Why can Laufey not see that?

Thor's appetites are as ravenous as his penchant towards destruction. He does nothing but tear into meat and gulp down mead, with nary a pause for breath in between. 

Loki drinks little, listens instead. Until the conversation moves past the mundanity of the kingdom and into more interesting matters, such as the planned excursion into Vanaheim. He can't miss the tension in Thor's jaw the moment the subject is brought up, his tightened grip on the jug of mead. "They are already a decimated race," he says. "What is the point?"

"They paid the price for aligning with Asgard. But we cannot allow them to gather their strength and strike against us. Not with the skills they have in sorcery -"

"They pose no threat," Thor says.

"And you know this to be truth, yes?" Laufey's tone is light.

Loki picks up a plum, as red as blood and almost bursting with juices. "Here. Have a plum. They are especially sweet this year."

Thor whips his head around, and for a moment there is a rage that is almost incandescent in his eyes. Only for a moment though, before he leans forward and takes a bite from the plum in Loki's hand, not caring that red juice runs down his chin.

Loki drinks far more after that, one mug after another. Enough that he starts to become light-headed, and leans against Thor's fur-covered arm for support. Something hard and wet is tossed at his face, and Loki blinks sleepily at Helblindi, cherry pits in her hand. 

"You are the worst sister in the realms," Loki says. Or tries to: it is mostly gibberish, as his mouth refuses to function as normal.

"Must my children be so ill-behaved," Laufey says, with a long-suffering sigh.

Thor lifts Loki's head with one hand, cradling it gently. "Shall I return him to his chambers? We have lost him, I believe."

Loki cannot hear Laufey's reply, but a moment later he is in Thor's arms, carried off like a child out of the hall. Thor brings him to his chambers, lays him down onto the furs. Loki tugs on the collar on Thor's throat, pulls him close. "You are so hot," he says. "I can feel your heat even from a distance. It burns, it -" he hiccups, finds his eyes closing, and forgets entirely want he wants to say.

*

Thor seeks him out in the library the next day, or so Loki convinces himself. His head hurts, and there is no spell he can find to alleviate his own stupidity. "Do you not have - what do concubines do when they are not on their back?"

"We harass young princes, it would appear. How is your head?"

Loki puts his hand to it, mutters with some misery, "It is fine, I am fine."

"Good." He turns to leave, but stops when Loki calls out to him.

"Since you are already here, you might as well stay. I am sure we can find some books with pictures for you to read."

"I am needed elsewhere," Thor replies, but he sits down next to Loki anyway, peers at the book open on his lap. "What kind of sorcery do you seek?"

"Power," Loki says. "And height. Height would be nice."

"I was smaller than you at your age."

"You are Aesir. I am supposed to be Jotunn." Loki sighs. 

"My point is that you do not need to be the size of a giant to be powerful, or to be a warrior."

"I do not want to be a warrior." Loki whistles through his teeth, says, "I want - what's rightfully mine. What Laufey has." Thor stills. "But he values you more than he does me. It is unfair."

"There are many things in the realms that are unfair, but I can promise you that he does not."

"You are a lousy liar. There are books on you, do you know that? Poems dedicated to your bravery."

"Yours will come. You are barely past childhood."

"No, it will be Byleistr they sing about, or Helblindi. Not the runt that was too stupid to die when left exposed to the elements." 

Thor stares at him, says after a moment, "Our king values me like a rare prize, as one would value a diamond, or a weapon forged by a dwarf."

"That's exactly what I said," Loki replies, slamming the book shut.

"You are a prince, his son. Do you not understand this?"

There is a weariness in his voice that Loki has never heard before. It is the only reason Loki doesn't snap back: _You dare, slave._ The only reason he clenches his jaw, eyes fixed on the book in front of him.

Thor puts his head in his hands and proceeds to ignore Loki, even when he puts a hand on his thigh. It is so blue, and small, against the paleness of Thor's massive leg. Loki cannot stop staring. "You are upset," he thinks to say. 

"Amazing. You seem possessed of some perception after all."

"Vanaheim, yes?"

"Hm."

"But it is for the good of Jotunheim." 

"I suppose it is." 

Loki doesn't like the doubt in his voice. It makes his skin prickle. But it's the first time that Thor's ever shown even a brief sign that he might be unhappy with Laufey. He leans in close, and Thor turns his head so their faces are barely apart. "I will be a kinder king than he is." 

Thor's smile is faint, and wry. "Will you?" 

"Yes." Loki licks his lips, and he can feel Thor's breath on his mouth, almost hot. He puts his hand on the collar on Thor's throat, says, "You will enjoy being mine." 

"Is that what you want, then?" Some kind of awareness sparks in Thor's too-blue eyes, and he breaks away, shifts so he is no longer so near to Loki. 

Loki fights the urge to slide closer, says, "I want many things, Thor of Asgard. And I will get them. You'll see." 

"You are a child." 

"The youngest king of Jotunheim was a year younger than me. He slit his father's throat in battle, and then ate his heart. He was feared and loved in equal measure, and reigned for centuries." 

Thor rubs at his eyes with the flesh of his palms. A moment passes, and then another, but then he says, abruptly, "No. Do not speak of such things again, or I will tell your father, and you will not live to see another birthday, let alone plot to be king someday."

He rises, and leaves Loki to stare blankly after him, deep in thought.


	3. iii.

The war is bloody, and heavy with casualties. There is much hope for victory though, or so Loki hears. What he hears is: Jotunheim gives no quarter, and all will be ground to dust by the time they are done. 

All would be well, except for Thor, who grows more grim and dark each time he returns from the battlefield.

Hidden in the vent, one night near the end, Loki spies on them, and for the first time sees unhappiness in Thor's face as he undresses. "I am tired," he says. "The battle was hard won."

"But you have been gone too long, and I have missed you." Laufey's hand is on the back of his neck, and he pushes Thor down onto the bed. "It will be over soon. You have done well." His hand makes a slow, lazy slide down Thor's back, and Thor shivers visibly. "You are my most valued possession, Thor. Remember this."

"How could I ever forget," Thor says, and shuts his eyes. 

"Finish this for Jotunheim, and you may have whatever it is you wish." 

And Loki thinks, perhaps he will ask for his freedom. But all Thor says, as Laufey starts to thrust into him, is: "I only wish to serve you, my king."

Laufey cannot see Thor's face, only Loki can.

He slides back into the shadows, makes his way back to his chambers.

There is planning to be done.

*

"Why do you think Thor is so upset over this war," Loki asks Helblindi over breakfast the next morning. Helblindi is a natural warrior, and Loki has decided that she is similar to the Aesir: powerful, but impulsive and soft of heart. Or at least that is what he knows of the one Aesir he has been in close contact with. 

Helblindi chews thoughtfully on her meat. "Perhaps he's worried that Laufey will find another child as beautiful as he is, to replace him." 

"He is not replaceable, you imbecile," Loki says without thinking. Helblindi looks surprised, and even Loki is, at his own vehemence. "Ah, I just meant - Laufey would have to start over again. Why would he bother?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask him." Helblindi shrugs. "More likely he's upset because well, we did to Asgard what we're doing to the Vanir?" 

"So? If they had been worthy, they would have won. The weak deserve to be ruled." 

Helblindi rolls her eyes. "Yes, I agree. You would make a great slave, runt. Now fetch me some more milk before I break your arm."

"I will do no such thing."

As he is trudging to the kitchen to ask the help for another pitcher of milk, he's distracted by the sight of Thor, leaning against the balcony and looking pensive. Loki considers his options only briefly: he's faster than Helblindi, and will most likely be able to hide from her until she forgets about her threat. Provided he does without sleep for the next few nights.

"I heard the taste of victory is in the air," Loki says, as he steps close. 

"You heard right." There is no inflection in his voice, and his attention is fixed downwards. 

Loki tries to look over the balcony, but he's too short. Thor takes pity on him, and lifts him up to deposit him gently onto the stone. Loki crosses his legs, peers down at the marching procession headed towards the keep. Foot soldiers surrounding shackled prisoners. "They are survivors?" 

"To be sold, yes." Again there is no expression in his voice. 

"How horrible," Loki says, and feels a rush of pleasure when Thor glances at him with some measure of approval. 

"Do not pretend to care, child of Laufey." 

"I care that it upsets you," Loki says, and is surprised to find that it's true. He reaches out, runs his fingers along Thor's strong, pale arms, says, "Your veins are blue, see. If only the rest of you were." Thor doesn't reply, and Loki continues dreamily, "They say the Aesir aren't built for this cold. But you seem fine."

"I have - adapted," Thor says. "But I feel the cold."

Loki is startled enough to snap his attention back into focus. "So you are cold? You do not seem it." Thor remains silent again, and Loki says, "What is the point of having a conversation with you if all you do is smirk at me and say nothing." He jumps down to stomp away, but Thor takes his arm, tugs him back. "I did not give you permission to lay your hands on me," Loki says, but stays, bristling as Thor's smile broadens. 

"I apologize." 

"It's not an apology if you do not mean it."

Thor's thumb skitters across Loki's elbow, and Loki shivers. "What are you doing?" 

Thor shakes himself, releases Loki abruptly. "Nothing, nothing at all. Run along now, young prince."

 _You are in no position to tell me what to do_ , Loki wants to say, but finds his tongue unable to move and his feet rooted to the ground.

*

Laufey is in the war room when Loki finds him. Alone, on one of the rare occasions when Thor is not there as council. More recently, Byleistr has been invited in as well, and Loki can only shudder at the prospect of his brother's witless rule. 

"What do you want," Laufey says, as Loki hovers at the archway. 

"I would like to learn how to hunt." 

The proclamation is enough for Laufey to stop moving pieces across the board, turn his head. Loki shrinks back a little, but stands his ground. "Why?" 

"Why not? I am of age, yes?" 

"Yes, and you have completed your training and only that, and shown little interest in anything but seidr since. Again I ask, why?" 

Loki shrugs, tries for a partial truth. "If I want to be king someday -" 

"Do you, then? And of your brother and sister?" 

Loki says, "Only the deserving remain king." 

Laufey nods his head, and some fleeting amusement crosses his face. "I shall see if Thrym can spare the time."

Loki clears his throat. "Well, actually."

*

There is an air of barely restrained tolerance around Thor as they head out, the next day at dawn. Loki is determined to ignore him, determined to savor getting his way. It only lasts for the first few hours, when they are still walking through thick snow, and there seems to be no end in sight. "Will we come across anything to kill soon, or are we merely to go for a daylight stroll?" 

"If you are tired, I will carry you."

It is the smirk on Thor's face that does it. Or the smirk Loki is certain exists: half of Thor's face is covered with fur, as is the rest of his body. The Aesir are so weak, it is a wonder they even evolved enough to be worth conquering.

Thor gets in his knees amiably enough, when Loki commands him to. And then Loki hesitates. 

"We do not have all day, your highness."

Loki wraps his arms around Thor's broad shoulders, lifts one knee, and then the other, supported by Thor's hands as he lifts Loki up into his back as if he weighs less than nothing. Thor gets back onto his feet and resumes his walk, at a much faster pace than before.

He is warm, even through the furs, and Loki finds himself drowsy, soon enough. He yawns and rests his cheek against the back of Thor's neck. His hair smells of carnations, with the faintest tang of metal. It's odd, and not entirely unpleasant. "Do you know why father let you come with me?"

"No."

"He knows the war troubles you, and feels that you require some respite before you return to deal with what comes next."

"He told you this?" Thor sounds surprised.

"No, but he wouldn't have let you go otherwise." Loki yawns. "Do not let me fall asleep, slave. I do not intend for you to steal my kill." 

"Yes, my lord."

He must fall asleep anyway, for when he awakens it's dark and Thor's climbing down an icy outcrop of rock. "Where are we," Loki asks. He cranes his neck, but only sees the glory of the night sky and the low hanging moons. 

"Ice caverns," Thor says. "They lie beneath this rock." 

"It's Jotunheim. You'll have to be more specific." 

"You'll find what you came here for, I promise." He sets Loki down in the middle of a cave, floor and ceiling carved with ice that glistens darkly. 

Loki shudders a little at the sudden loss of warmth, even though he is hardly cold. "Do we hunt now?" 

"Now we eat, and sleep."

"Oh," Loki says, but doesn't argue. Thor has stripped himself of most of his fur, and laid them out on the ground. Loki falls into them, wraps one around his frame as Thor gathers wood from outside.

"Why can't we hunt at night?" 

"Did you pay no attention at all during your years of training?"

"I learnt more important things," Loki says. He snakes an arm out from the fur and waves it, sets the sticks on fire.

Thor does not seem impressed at all. Instead he crouches down next to Loki, offers him a piece of meat. "Eat," he says. "You will need your strength for the morning."

*

It goes terribly, almost from the start. Loki is awakened far too early, and finds himself unprepared for the creatures that scale the walls of the cavern as they venture deeper, hissing at them at random intervals. Loki inches closer to Thor, whispers, "Are we to kill these - these?" 

"They are harmless," Thor says. As if to prove him wrong, a creature hurls itself at Thor, who catches it, snaps its neck easily and allows it to fall to the ground. The rest of the creatures screech oudly, and retreat into the shadows.

"Then what are we hunting," Loki says.

"You'll see soon enough. Stay close and behind me."

"I do not need your protection." Loki glares at him, and pushes ahead. He is not prepared for the creature looming suddenly in front of him, and he stumbles, slips and falls backwards, off a ledge that he hasn't even noticed was there, and so he goes, tumbling into the dark.

He awakens to a pounding head, and an ankle that throbs when he puts his weight on it. There is no sight of Thor, and when Loki peers up all he sees is gleaming rock fading into darkness.

He manages to hobble, somehow, and wanders around for a while, lost and disoriented and searching for Thor. He's nowhere to be found, and Loki imagines himself trapped in here in perpetuity, doing nothing but going around in circles until he prays for a predator to end his miserable existence.

Thor has probably abandoned him, Loki thinks at some point, delirious with pain and furious beyond all comprehension. Must be on his father's orders. Of course he would tell Laufey of his plans to usurp the throne, any man that would allow himself to be mounted like a dog would have no integrity, be as loose-lipped as a common whore. He is so angry that he loses his footing yet again, finds himself on his ass, staring up at the biggest spider that he has ever seen. 

It chitters at him, venom dripping red off a tooth as big as Thor's entire forearm, then skitters forward, surprisingly swift for something of its size, and Loki is unable to move. He merely flinches, and so only sees a blur of gold and silver as it positions itself in-between Loki and his impending death. Something splatters warmly on Loki's cheek, and he does the most reasonable thing under the circumstances: he curses Thor's name, and faints dead away.

*

When he opens his eyes again, he is bundled in furs, and held by some kind of heated rock. He wriggles in its grip, and a voice goes, "Stop, or I will be forced to drop you." 

"Is this Hel," Loki says, because he cannot see. "Are we dead?" 

"Not quite yet." He puts Loki gently down, enough for Loki's eyes to adjust. They are outside, next to a stream of rushing water. Jotunheim's moons glow bright and heavy in the night sky. "We are safe here," Thor says. 

"No spiders?" 

"No spiders - you really did not pay any attention at all, did you? This is your home, Loki. Your land, your legacy. You should know it better than the back of your hand, value it more than you do the blood that runs through your veins." 

Loki flushes. "And where is your home, Thor of Asgard? Did your-"

Thor grimaces, and puts a hand to his side. For the first time Loki notices that he is paler than usual, paler than he should be even in this odd, soft light. He sharpens his gaze, sees the blood seep through Thor's fingers. 

"Are you injured?" 

"It is nothing, merely a scratch." 

"It looks more than just a scratch to me." Loki scoots forward, pauses briefly to screech as his turned ankle reminds him that it hasn't had time to mend yet, then focuses once again as Thor pulls his hand away. The gash is deep, weeping black, sludgy blood, and the surrounding flesh has turned purple, dark spreading out like roots. "You have been poisoned," Loki says. 

"Yes." 

"Will it heal?" 

"In time." He sways, and Loki takes him by the arms, holds him as steady as he can. 

"You are supposed to be invincible," Loki says. "Thor the Mighty, fiercer even than the biggest of the Jotunn giants. Will you be felled by a spider bite?" 

"I said," Thor says, "I will heal in time. But not right now." His eyes close, and this time Loki cannot hold him up. Can only move out of the way as he collapses, face down, onto the earth.

Loki thinks of leaving him there, at first. He pokes at Thor, prods him with his fingers, his unbroken foot, yells at him for a good long while.

Thor does not stir. Eventually Loki gives up. He builds himself a fire, close to Thor but sealed by seidr so no spark can hit them. The effort takes almost all of his energy, and he can only drag all the furs over, toss them over Thor and flop down next to him, exhausted. Somehow, he manages to roll Thor onto his side, so he can look closer at the wound. It has stopped bleeding, which is good. Loki paid attention in at least some of his classes: what he learnt of the Aesir was that they were not easy to kill, but it was not impossible either.

Thor doesn't stir when Loki presses his fingers to the swollen flesh around the wound, tries to recall if he has a healing spell that might work against spider venom. But even if he did, it is not as if he has the skill or the energy right now to succeed. He glances up at Thor's still, pale face, mutters, "Idiot," under his breath. 

He refuses to be beholden to him: firstly because it was Thor who put his life in danger to begin with, and secondly because it's merely a slave's duty to die for his master. Even if in the case of Thor, Loki suspects that Laufey would far rather lose his runt of a child than his favorite concubine.

Loki slides his hand up Thor's bare chest, marvels at how warm he is, how hard his muscles are, even in a state of unconsciousness. His fingers find their way to Thor's cheek, trace the lines on his face. There are uglier creatures, Loki supposes. 

Marginally.

He yawns, finds himself drifting off to an exhausted, dreamless sleep. 

When he awakens, starving, Thor is still unconscious. Loki finds the remainder of the meat, chews thoughtfully on it while sitting cross legged next to his still frame. There's water in a skin, half buried under some fur. He takes a sip and puts it to Thor's mouth. Thor sputters, but seems to swallow at least some of it. "You need to wake up, Thor. I will not die in this mangy place because of you." 

He does not expect Thor to open his eyes and say, "We are neither of us dead just yet." But there is a wildness in his gaze, and the heat he's emanating is abnormal, even for an Aesir. 

"The wound is infected," Loki says. 

"No, it's merely the poison working its way through my body. It will pass." 

"Will they send for us?" 

"They do not expect us back so soon. It might be weeks." 

"I know. I often wondered why Father let you leave for so long, and neglect your duties." 

"I'm thirsty," Thor says. "More water." 

Loki puts the skin to his lips again, and this time Thor manages to swallow even more of it down. "You need to regain your strength. I can hardly be expected to drag you out of here if you refuse to help yourself." 

But Thor's eyes have slipped closed yet again, his breathing slowed down to evenness.

He starts to shiver, at some point, and the heat he emanates turns almost unbearable. Loki smothers the flames, but it does not seem to help. Thor merely mutters and clutches at himself, and when Loki inches closer, he shudders, turns away. "But you require the cold," Loki says. He pulls Thor to him, drapes his heavy arm across his shoulders. Thor tries to escape, but he only manages a faint shove, and can do nothing more once Loki wraps a leg around his waist and buries his face in his chest.

*

The fever breaks at the end of what seems like an interminable night, with Thor alternating between violent shudders and a stillness so severe Loki has to keep his ear pressed to his chest to ensure he still breathes. 

Thor extracts himself from Loki's arms with measured slowness, and when Loki lifts his head he finds Thor's eyes clear, even if the color of his cheeks is a high, unflattering pink. Loki sits up, says, "I cannot walk. I hope you are prepared to carry me home." 

"Yes, my lord." 

Time stills between them, stretches long and sticky and ripe with - 

Loki licks his lips, says, "We are even now, are we not?" 

Thor sits up as well, wincing as he does so. "We are." 

"I -" Loki begins, and has to glance away. Is this what Laufey sees, then? Is this why he keeps Thor in his bed, by his side? He cannot breathe; every part of him trembles. "I cannot -" he begins again, and bites his lip. 

"We should start to head back," Thor says. "I will carry you."

Thor lifts Loki onto his back, and they start the long walk home.


	4. iv.

Laufey says nothing about Loki not returning with any kind of prize to show for the damage they both sustained. He's given a bandage for his ankle and salve for the cut on his forehead. "And Thor?" Loki asks of the healer who tends to his wounds. 

"He does well," the healer replies, his voice neutral. "He speaks of your bravery in the face of imminent danger. Your father is very proud." 

Loki knows he must lie, and yet finds himself flushing with pleasure, warmth sparking inside of him like Thor's burning heat.

*

He hobbles to Thor's chambers when he is well enough, finds him propped up on the bed, surrounded by simpering females. "Out," Loki says, and they all turn to him as one, eyes wide. 

One of them has the temerity to say, "King Laufey commands that we -" 

"Take liberty with his concubine? Surely not." There are shared glances as Loki quietly fumes, and after a moment they start to file out, in a single, haughty line. 

"They were tending to my wound," Thor says, once they have left. 

"Does your injury need tending still," Loki says. He makes his way to the bed, plops himself next to Thor. 

"Not as much, no." Loki peers at Thor's side: the wound is close to healing, scabbed over with dark clotted blood and surrounded by flesh that's no longer swollen or discolored. "How is your ankle?" 

"Painful. Broken." He lifts his leg for Thor to see. Thor takes his ankle in his hands, his touch gentle on the tender flesh. "Still your fault." 

"Hm."

"Do you want to kiss it and make it better?" It must be the salve on his head, it is addling his mind. 

"Are you issuing me an order?" 

"Perhaps." 

"I answer only to your father, child of Laufey. I doubt he will approve." 

"Then release my ankle, and let me leave." Thor lowers his head instead, presses his lips to the exposed skin right above the bruise. Loki starts, and stifles a gasp. He does not know what he is doing: Laufey will kill them both.

Thor must realize that as well, he drops Loki's leg and says, his voice rough and dark, "You are a child. Do not try to play an adult's game." 

"I am hardly playing," Loki replies.

Any reply Thor might give is cut short by Laufey's looming presence in the archway. Loki jumps to his feet, winces as pain lances up his leg. "I am glad to see you are well, Thor. Perhaps we could hunt together again." 

"I should think not," Laufey says. "You almost succeeded in what entire armies have failed to do, son. Entirely without trying, I might add." 

Loki finds a mirthless smile crossing his face. "Imagine what I could do if I put my mind to it," he says. 

Behind him, Thor snorts.

*

"So you did not even manage to fell a single beast?" Helblindi asks, as she licks something sweet and sticky off her fingers. Loki regrets, instantly, joining her for lunch.

"I was injured," Loki says. "Defending Thor." He has perhaps embellished his role in what happened a little, and so far Thor has not said a single word to refute the tales that Loki has been telling. 

Helblindi snorts. "The day Thor needs your wretched behind to rescue him -"

"Just because you're in love with him."

Loki winces as she kicks him in the shin. "I am not in love with him!" She sighs. "Perhaps Byleistr will give him to me when he is king."

"If you need to wait for someone to _give_ him to you." Loki shakes his head. "Why do you lack ambition? Is it because you have no cock between your legs?" 

Helblindi kicks at him again, and this time Loki manages to avoid her foot. "I hardly lack ambition. Just because I don't want to be queen doesn't mean I lack ambition. Byleistr can have the kingdom - I will be a great warrior, and leave the tedium of rule to him." Her smile turns sly. "Besides, I have had a cock between my legs often enough." 

Loki makes a disgusted face. "You don't have to brag."

"It's not bragging if it's the truth."

"Yes it is." Loki pauses, bites his lower lip. "It must hurt - doesn't it?" 

"Why would it hurt? Are you stupid? Especially not if it's your tiny cock trying to find its way in." 

"My cock is not small." 

"Considering your size, what else could it be," Helblindi replies, with the conviction of someone who knows the Absolute Truth. But Loki cares little for her spiteful opinions. All he can see is Thor on his hands and knees as Laufey takes him, fingers gripped into his hair to pull his head back. "Fret not, little brother. You are still a prince. Runt as you are, some unfortunate female will be willing to fuck you sooner or later." 

"I would rather it be later," Loki says, distracted by the images in his head. "If only -" He cuts himself off, glances at Helblindi, but she has already stopped listening.

*

Laufey decides that Loki should be made to suffer through more training. With Thrym this time, not Thor. "You did say you were planning to be king. So prove yourself worthy. Byleistr and Helblindi were both honored to have his time. "

Loki cannot figure out what his intentions are: does he know, and is that why he's keeping Thor away from him? Or does he truly want Loki to try for the throne.

This he thinks about, as he is being thrown across the snow, hit in the face, and battered across his ribs. Thrym is a cruel, malicious demon, although he claims otherwise. Tells Loki, when Loki dares to complain of his ill-treatment, "This is hardly suffering. War is suffering. The battle, watching your comrades fall next to you, that is suffering." 

"The best victory is the one where you do not have to shed a single drop of your own blood," Loki says. 

"And how do you plan to accomplish that?" Thrym swings out with his axe, and Loki dissolves the illusionary figure, hits him low in the knee from behind so he falls. 

"By being smarter than everyone else, of course." 

Thrym laughs and laughs, and then slams his fist into the side of Loki's face, sending him sprawling into hard packed snow. "Power," he says, as he rises slowly to his feet. "All your brains will be for naught if all I need to do is snap your neck to end you."

He has a point. A perfect, valid point.

Loki complains far less after that.

*

Thor comes to watch Loki spar, one dreadful morning. Loki has not seen him in a while: he hears Thor has been busy dealing with the resettlement of the Vanir. It must be true, for there is a tightness around his shoulders, and shadows under his eyes. For the first time, Loki sees a weakness in Laufey, an error in judgement. He should never have sent Thor. Loki would never have sent Thor. 

Thrym says, after the bout ends with Loki holding a spear to his neck, "You fight well today, your highness. Perhaps I should invite your father's concubines to witness our sparring more often." 

Loki jerks back the spear, extends a hand he knows will not be taken. "When I am king," he says, loud enough for Thor to hear. "I will not take an Aesir for a whore. There is enough shame in the house of Laufey as it is." 

Thrym dusts snow off his legs as he stands, says, "Tell your father this to his face, will you?" 

"You do it," Loki says. He drives his spear into the ground, leans against it. Thrym is loyal, that is without question. But also shrewd, and he has served the king before Laufey and the one before that, and will serve the one after him. 

"Tomorrow," is all Thrym says. "Be prepared - I believe it is time I stopped holding back."

Thor says, after Thrym has left, "You favor your left." 

"A broken ankle will make one do that," Loki says, sour that the first words out of Thor's mouth aren't praise. Did he not just win?

Thor walks over, pulls the spear out of the ground. He hefts it in his hand, and in an instant Loki is flat on his back, the point sharp at his neck. "Always keep your guard up. Always." 

"From you?" 

"Especially from me." 

Loki pushes the spear away slowly, with deliberation. "I have no fear of a slave who values an oath he made to his conqueror more than he does his own principles." 

Thor gets down on one knee, puts his hand to Loki's throat. "What do you know of me?" 

"All I need to." Loki tilts his chin up in defiance, and when he swallows he can feel it against Thor's palm. "You could take what you want, but you will not." 

"Assumptions, yet again." 

"Merely truth."

"I am a _slave_ ," Thor says. "Your father's slave. You are foolish if you think that is a position anyone would take lightly. To even consider -" 

"But what if you could?" 

"You are not ready," Thor says, and his hand tightens against Loki's neck, to the point where Loki can barely breathe. 

He inhales, manages to spit out, "But I will be, one day. Choose."

Thor releases him, but instead of leaving he grabs Loki and hauls him to his feet. 

Loki tilts his head up, says, "Father leaves on his yearly sojourn to the temples today, does he not?" Thor nods. "I will leave my chambers unguarded. You have the whole day to decide."

*

Loki spends the rest of the day in his chambers, pacing. He learns new, delightful things about how ill-fitted each and every item provided for him is for his size. He snaps when an attempt is made to feed him, sets fire to buzzing insects, and chases Helblindi away when she asks him to join her for a walk. He only regrets the last thing, reminds himself to make it up to her before she slits his throat while he slumbers.

Thor doesn't show up until it's halfway to dawn, and Loki has almost given up. He rounds on Thor, snarls, "You coward. You think I will wait for you like a virgin on her wedding night. I will not be disrespecte-" 

He cannot finish his sentence, as Thor lifts him and tosses him onto the furs, knocking the breath clean out of him. Loki scrambles up as soon as he can, but finds himself out of words as Thor looms over him. "You make promises you cannot possibly keep," Thor says. 

Loki puts his hands on Thor's waist, curls them against his skin. "Some promises I intend to keep," he says, and his arms are trembling, he notices this as if he is watching himself from a distance.

Thor's hand finds his cheek, traces his thumb across his lower lip. "Have you even been kissed before?"

Thor's eyelashes flicker, and his eyes are so blue. They are Jotunn blue, the exact blue of Loki's skin. Why had he never noticed before? "So kiss me," Loki says, and his voice shakes. 

"Yes, my lord." 

The kiss is gentle, almost hesitant, and Loki loops his arms around Thor's neck, drags him down onto the furs. He shimmies underneath him in a mad, desperate scramble to remove both their loincloths, until Thor takes both his wrists into his one hand, pins them up above his head. Loki hisses impatiently. "I want -" he says, almost incoherent as Thor's cock presses against his thigh. 

"In time," Thor says, but he continues to hesitate. 

"Why," Loki demands. "You came here, and now you will not finish it." 

"You are a child," Thor says, and his cheeks are flushed with more than just desire. 

"I am a prince of Jotunheim," Loki says, and puts as much command behind the words as he can muster in his wanton state. "And I will be king, and I will have you." Thor shudders, a full body kind of shudder, some distant horror etched across his face, and Loki lowers his voice, says, "Please, Thor. I want you." He lifts his head up, presses his mouth against the side of Thor's lips. "Please."

Helblindi is a liar, as Loki always knew she was. It hurts, for far too long before it even remotely turns good. Loki presses his cheek into the furs, only comforted by Thor's hand on his back, soothing him as one would a wounded animal. He kisses Loki's shoulder, nuzzles at him over and over until Loki relaxes into it, and turns his head to seek a kiss. 

"You are mine, yes?" he asks, dizzy with pain and desire and the fog of uncertainty. "Say it." 

"Yes." Thor lowers his head, and his teeth graze the back of Loki's shoulder. Light at first, but then he bites down, entirely without warning. Loki moans as Thor's hand finds his cock, and he finishes in a harsh, ragged spurt into the fur.

Thor finishes much later, pulls out of Loki to spill hotly against his back.

Loki cannot bring himself to move, flops boneless on the furs until Thor gathers him into his arms, presses his chest to Loki's back. Loki feels stickiness on his spine, Thor's seed drying against his skin. "Do you only tell me what I want to hear," Loki asks, sleepy and largely sated. 

"Does it matter?" 

"No, I suppose it does not. But I will rule one day, and you will be mine."

"If you want me," Thor says, "you will have to earn me." 

"I will. I will be a good king, and you will not want to leave."

"Where would I go?" Thor asks, and there is an ice-sharp edge to his voice.

"Anywhere you want. But you will not wish to leave," Loki says. Promises he cannot keep. Promises he intends to keep. "My father is a fool - you deserve more. I will give it to you."

He feels Thor's kiss, hovering over the mark he's left. "I believe you," he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a single line extra for **negotiation** , **possession/marking** , **situational humiliation** , **teasing** and **verbal humiliation**. 
> 
> Title taken from "[Washing the Elephant](http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2010/03/15/100315po_poem_ras)" by Barbara Ras.


End file.
